To me to live is Christ, to die is gain. Philippians 1:21
The other day my new passport arrived through the post. It
only happens every ten years, of course, but it’s always a bit – what word
shall I use? – disconcerting, perhaps. Is that really me? - that grey-haired
old chap? Surely not!
Oh well, I won’t need to bother about it again until 2033,
the new expiry date. But hang on a minute… will I still be here in 2033? The
passport doesn’t expire until then; but there’s a pretty good chance that I
will have. If I make it to 2033 I’ll be 85, which can no longer remotely be
thought of as young, or middle-aged, or even “early elderly”. It’s just good,
honest, plain old. So the thing to do, surely, is to look it right in
the eye and live in such a way that not a minute is wasted.
That’s what Paul is doing in Philippians 1:21: as far as he
is concerned, to live is Christ, to die is … wait for it!... gain. Yes,
of course he would like to have a few more years, as we all do; that instinct
for survival is part of our DNA, and in Paul’s case he anticipates more
opportunities to serve God. But death heralds something far better: the
child of God can only gain by dying.
I am convinced that this little verse should be better
known. Why do we preachers not preach on it more often? Why do we keep it for
funerals and other solemn events? After all, if it really is true then it is staggeringly
good news: just as Jesus gained victory over death when he rose again on Easter
morning, so shall we who have our trust in him.
That’s not something to be believed in a half-hearted kind
of way, a sort of vague wishful thinking; it’s something to be rejoiced in! I
can think of various encouragements we can draw from those few words…
First, they take away the fear of death.
We may still have a fear of dying, but that’s a very
different thing. We can’t guarantee that when it comes death won’t be painful
and possibly distressing – we can’t guarantee that we will, to borrow the words
of the poet John Keats, “cease upon the midnight with no pain” (wouldn’t that
be wonderful!). I think it was the American film-maker Woody Allen who declared
“I’m not afraid of dying – I just don’t want to be around when it happens”. Very
witty. But sorry, Mr Allen, I’m afraid that option isn’t on offer!
Jesus died anything but a painless death, so our business
is to put our hand firmly into his, and trust him to bring us through.
There is also, of course, the inevitable pain of saying
goodbye to the people we love and the many things that make this life precious
to us. But if indeed “to die is gain” the sorrow and grieving will be momentary
in the context of eternity. Grief, remember, is the price we pay for love.
Second, these words put things into perspective.
Even if we make it to a hundred, that’s little more than a
blip against the ages of time.
We live in a world where people cling to life as if our
earthly years are all that there is, but that is simply foolish and unrealistic.
Doctors and nurses do a wonderful job, and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t
take advantage of their knowledge and skills. But they can only put off the
inevitable, so wisdom is to look death full in the face and make sure we live
every minute of every passing day to the best of our ability.
Another poet, Dylan Thomas, pleaded with his dying father,
“Do not go gentle into that good night;/ Rage, rage against the dying of the
light”. But how wrong he was! How futile and puny, ultimately, is such rage. Did
Jesus rage against death? Did Stephen (Acts 7), as the stones thudded into his
body?
No! Jesus prayed, “Father, into your hands I commit my
spirit”; Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit”. A trusting acceptance
of death may not be easy to achieve, but it is what we must aim for.
Third, Paul’s words liberate us from many of this life’s
anxieties.
If I am to die and then go to something infinitely better,
is there really any need to worry about my hair going grey or my face getting wrinkled?
Does it matter what people think of me? Do I need to pretend to be hale and
hearty when I’m not?
All right, there are things I used to be able to do without
thinking, and I can’t do them any more. But so what? Lord, help me to smile
cheerfully until that glorious day when, like the lame man in Acts 3, I shall “walk
and jump and praise God” with a perfect new body in a perfect new world.
Father, thank you for the day that is coming
when you will wipe every tear from the eyes of those who trust in you, when
there will be no more death or mourning
or crying or pain, because all these things will have passed away. Help
me to live my remaining days in the light of these great truths. Amen.
(Revelation 21:4).
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